Wings migrate when seasons shift,
a subtle breeze will turn...
low murmurs 'neath new feathers lift
their flight away from home...
un-compassed in their domestic fledge
unknowing of its end,
they ride the winds of nature’s pledge
wherever they may send.
Yet not the same for men as birds,
with knowledge of return...
for them just hateful fists and words
that wish their homelands burn...
and what of those that come anew?
Not born of blood or soil,
will they feel safe as free men do?
No State their lives to spoil.
